Settling For Second Best
by xox Moony xox
Summary: After the inevitable happens, Tony talks Maxxie into coming to Brighton with him for a few nights, because, quite frankly, there isn’t anyone else.
1. Chapter 1

**Rating: **R for language, drug use, way too much alcohol consumption and a tiny bit of sexual content.

**Pairing:** Maxxie/Tony.

**Spoilers:** Up to and including episode 7. It's set several days after.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it, or them. I'd like to, but life isn't that good to me. I think you've got the idea by now.

**Summary: **After the inevitable happens, Tony talks Maxxie into coming to Brighton with him for a few nights, because, quite frankly, there isn't anyone else.

**Chapter 1**

I don't know how I let him talk me into this. Actually, that's a lie; I know exactly how he managed to talk me into this. He blamed me. He threw all the blame onto me. Michelle found out. Everything he'd been working for backfired. Even Sid hated him now. I mean, really hated him. And for all of that, he blamed me. But it wasn't my fault; it _isn't_ my fault… not entirely at least.

Sat on the opposite side of the room, Tony is holding his head in his hands and groaning in some obscure manner. He wants me to make a comment, ask him what's wrong or something. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction right now. I can't be bothered.

We're sat in a hotel room in Brighton of all places. 'You'll love it Max, think of all the gay men,' he'd said to me only yesterday. Thanks, Tone, it's so great to know you were thinking of me when you booked this retreat. But he hadn't been, not to begin with. He was supposed to be sat here with Michelle now, not me. Although I doubt very much they would have been sitting all that much. This was clearly not what Tony first had in mind.

The truth is I'm here because I feel out of place back home, too. I guess I am partly to blame for the trail of devastation Tony left in his wake. Should have kept saying no to him and none of this would have even happened. Curiosity had got the better of me, he was so persistent and I was drunk and the rest is history as they say.

'You owe me,' Tony had enforced, still attempting to convince me to join him on his little getaway. I owed him for what exactly? Giving in to his advances for a moment and doing exactly as he'd wanted all trip? Or maybe he meant that I owed him for the final rebuff I handed him, the spectacle I made of him in class? Either way, I personally didn't think I owed him a fucking thing. But it was an excuse to get out of Bristol so I took it.

Pulling my knees up against my chest, I glare over my shoulder at my companion as he begins to mumble something about Michelle into his hands. He looks up and I'm greeted with the sight of his still blackened eye and the small cut adorning his left cheek. It's taking a while for him to heal. Sometimes I wonder if he regrets it now because he's ended up looking such a mess. Tony needs his good looks to get by in life. Without them - and excuse me here if I'm a little blunt – all he really amounts to is a conniving egotistical twat. That's the way he is and the way he's always going to be. Fuck what he says. We all know that deep down.

But here we are, sat back to back, alone once more and Tony doesn't look as distracted as he did several minutes ago.

'So I fucked up,' he says.

I'm inclined to agree with him. Tony is actually admitting he went one step too far. It's shocking. If ever I could freeze a moment in time, this would have to be it. He's still looking over at me, the corners of his mouth turned up into an awkward smile. He has nothing to smile about, but he's trying to go on as normal.

I shake my head, clasping my hands in my lap and force myself to return his gaze. 'Yeah, you did,' is my feeble reply.

Tony is looking quite enthused now, beaming from ear to ear as if he's just concocted a plan. 'Sid'll act like a wanker for a couple of days and then he'll realise that I've actually done him a favour,' he adds, pointing over toward me as though I should know he's right and this is some sort of awe aspiring revelation.

Is he actually serious? He's definitely not done anyone any favours.

'It's fucking life isn't it? You've got to have fun with it or what's the point?' he adds and then gets up from the bed, and I stare at him, I stare at him hard, in disbelief more than anything. 'Come on, we're going out.'

No we're not, not yet.

'You can't fuck people around like that, Tony,' I reply, even though I know his questions were rhetorical. 'People get hurt.'

He's knelt on the floor now, his case open in front of him, clothes spilling out onto the carpet. 'Oh yeah, like who?' he asks.

A part of me is screaming to tell him to go fuck himself and walk out. But that's pathetic really. I can't do that. Even Tony knows I'm not that spineless. He needs to be told. He needs to understand what he's actually done to me, to us… to everyone.

'Me Tony, you hurt me.'

There, I've said it, it's out there and to be honest, I'd rather not hear his reaction. I could leave now. Open the door and run until my legs give out. Sounds like a brilliant plan actually.

I keep watching him, waiting in vain for his response, but he's not retaliating. In fact, it takes me several minutes to realise that he's no longer looking through his case, he is in fact rifling through the contents of mine, throwing things around without a care in the world. He pauses, a plain t-shirt in his hands and then tosses it over to me.

Catching it, I shoot a quizzical glance in his direction, moving around so that I am sprawled across the bed and have a good view of him on the floor. I don't need to ask what he's doing; he'll gladly offer me the answer to that question before I even put it forward. He reinforces that we're going out. We're not going to sit around and be miserable like the others are probably doing. He doesn't apologise though. Tony can't simply apologise to me, or to anyone else for that matter.

'Get changed then. I'm not sitting here all night.' Tony already has his jumper over his head and he's making his way to the bathroom.

What the hell, we can talk about it tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

There's something quite fascinating about the way he smokes a joint. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I enjoy watching. The way he's leant casually against the wall, his face tilted up to the sky, eyes half closed; it captivates me. He's been silent for ten minutes. I prefer it when he's silent. When he's silent it means I don't have to talk back, don't have to rack my brain for a reply that wouldn't make me sound like an idiot, and I rather love that.

With a soft sigh, I join him against the wall and close my eyes, leaning back on the foot I prop up against the bricks. The thumping bass of dance music surrounds us. I'm itching to get in there. Normally I would have been straight inside, but Tony had insisted he needed a smoke before he went anywhere near a dance floor and I wasn't about to argue with him.

He nudges me in the ribs and I open an eye, glancing in his direction to find him offering me his joint. I take it, my head tipping back as I take a drag and stare up at the sky. It's a beautiful night actually, with the moon prominent in the darkness and barely a cloud in sight. But it's cold and I want to head into the club. As I exhale slowly, we're momentarily surrounded by a small cloud of smoke and it stings my eyes. I snap them shut and bite down on my lip, drawing blood. The bitter taste of iron fills my mouth and it's an effort not to gag. But then Tony distracts me, moving to stand in front of me instead, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

'How much cash do you have?' he asks me, taking the rollup back so that he can finish it off and then flicks the butt aside. He casually brushes ash from his shoulder, his motions so fluid, before fixing his eyes upon me again. 'Maxxie?'

Had I been staring at him? I don't know. Shrugging my shoulders I check my pockets, coming up with a twenty pound note and a few loose coins. Not much then. 'Sorry, Tone,' I offer, pushing off from the wall and slipping the money into my back pocket once more.

Tony stops me from getting any further, shoving me back into the wall with force and smiling slyly. Without any immediate warning, he leans in, pressing his lips into mine and holding my arms so tightly that I can feel his nails cutting into my skin. I don't want this. This is the last thing I want right now, fucking Tony fucking me around again. But his kiss feels different tonight, there's an edge of softness along with his desperation. It's nice. I hate myself for enjoying it.

Pressing my hands against his chest, I reluctantly push away. 'Fucking hell, Tony,' I mutter and I'm cursing myself for not even attempting to sound annoyed with him. 'Stop messing around.'

Shaking his head and emitting a soft chuckle, he lets his gaze drift downwards and I realise that I'm gripping onto the front of his shirt. He won't be going anywhere any time soon if I have anything to do with it. Guiltily I let go and look away, avoiding his gaze. 'Meet me inside, yeah?' he says after a short silence.

He flashes me another smile; it's one of those cheeky little grins and my stomach involuntarily ties itself into knots. Why does he always do this to me when we're sleeping in the same room? I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me. Sometimes he has a kind of hunger in his eyes when he looks at me. I'm not blind, I have noticed. It's been there ever since Russia, almost as though the entire experience has brought something inside him to life.

But maybe Michelle's right, maybe I am a slut, I encourage him even though I know it's wrong. I'll gladly let him do what he wants with me because, well, I like it. I shouldn't though. Deep down all Tony is doing is settling for second best. He pays me all this attention because he's bored and lonely, and I _know_ I piss him off. He's not all that keen on my honesty. At least, I don't think he is.

Tony's gradually consuming my entire world, but there is no fucking way I'll ever tell him that. I can't be a slut for following my instincts though, right? Tony's a bastard, a tosser, a complete wanker, yet, I want him more than ever.

I have no idea where he's gone now. That's Tony for you, he doesn't care, simply abandons you round the back of some random club in the dead of night. Good job I know the place.

Finally moving away from the wall, I consciously wrap my arms around myself and head into the club. Normally I'm all for a night out on the tiles, drinking and dancing your cares away, but there's only one way tonight can turn out and I'm not sure if I'm ready to go down that path again just yet.

Inside the air is smoky and bodies are crammed together wherever you look. Friday night in Brighton, you wouldn't find anything else. Once again I'm wondering where Tony is and if he's going to be much longer. I don't mind being alone of course; I've done it plenty of times, the company's nice though.

It's ten minutes before I set eyes on my companion again and he's slowly making his way toward me, slipping through the crowds, his arms held high as he avoids spilling the bottles clutched in his hands. When Tony finally reaches me, he slides an arm around my waist as he hands a drink over, leaning into me and whispering, 'Tonight's about to get better.' His hand slips deep into my back pocket and he places something there. 'For when you get bored,' he adds, tilting his head slightly so that his heated breath tickles my skin.

And then he's gone, he's downed one of his drinks and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving me stood motionless. Fuck, he's doing it again. I let a sigh go, looking down at the drink in my hand and then over my shoulder in the direction he headed off in. It doesn't surprise me when I find him propped up at the bar talking to a small huddle of girls; some blonde, some brunette, but all pretty and all interested in him. I'm never going to be anything other than a game to him. I know that now. He's made it pretty clear.

My eyes are stinging again, tears are threatening and I can feel the bile rising higher in my throat as the seconds pass by. I need to stop letting him walk all over me. Lifting the bottle in my hand to my lips, I take a long drink, throwing my head back and squeezing my eyes shut tight. Two can play this game.

Once I'm done, I abandon the bottle and make my way to the bathroom, pushing my way through the throngs of people dancing mindlessly and then finally locking myself into a cubicle. At least Tony's useful for one thing. Shoving my hand into the pocket Tony had been in earlier I pull out a small plastic bag and hold it up in front of me. Sure enough it contains a tiny white pill with the imprint of a dove on it. Tonight _was_ about to get better, Tony wasn't wrong. It was time to forget about him for a start.

I lean my head back against the cubicle wall and then place the pill on my tongue, swallowing it down dry. Even though I know it's going to take a while to kick in I already feel a sense of freedom. It's the pre-emptive high.

Fifty minutes later I'm in the centre of the dance floor and I'm lost in the music. I'm happy here. It's an escape from everything… from everyone. Everything's a blur around me, like everything's happening in fast-forward, bodies writhing together in a haze of heat and noise. Some guy who introduced himself as Ryan latched onto me twenty minutes ago and he's been on me ever since, grinding up against me and not caring where he puts his hands. The attention's nice, but of course, genuine attention _is_ nice.

I don't know where Tony is. I don't _care_ where Tony is. And, in fact, the next time I see Tony is at 5am when he falls through the door of our hotel room and knocks the kettle and mugs onto the floor with a loud crash. I'm not asleep, thankfully. I've only been in thirty minutes myself; Ryan and I were getting to know each other for a while back at his apartment. I'm sure he would have liked me to stay the night actually but I'd needed a release that didn't involve fucking Tony and Ryan had been there, ready and willing, I wasn't looking for anything more.

'Who's the tosser who put that there?' exclaims Tony, clumsily trying to put everything back in place. I'd help him, but it's too much effort to move. 'Fucking idiots.' His cursing continues on and I simply squeeze my eyes shut trying to block him out.

It's another fifteen minutes before Tony ceases stumbling around the place and he collapses onto the bed beside me. My entire body goes rigid at the thought of having him lying beside me all night and I quickly roll onto my side, turning my back to him. But Tony hasn't moved since he got into bed. I sigh softly, shooting a glance over my shoulder, an eyebrow rising in curiosity. He's out cold, mouth open wide and catching flies.

Is it wrong that I'm slightly disappointed?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A giant stuffed panda is shoved into my open arms with its big, black and beady eyes staring up at me. Tony seems rather pleased with himself. When do I break the news to him that I'm not Michelle and big teddy bears simply don't impress me? I'm humouring him for now. He woke up like shit, but then, so did I. For the first hour he didn't even speak to me. Now he's acting like nothing's happened and we're back to being bosom buddies. It's a fucking joke really.

Tony's like a big kid when he gets going. He loves fairground rides and hoopla stalls, candyfloss and ice-cream. He's in his element right now, marching up and down the pier and spending his money on whatever he can. It looks like tonight's going to be on me then.

Trailing after Tony, not quite as enthused, I look around the pier a little. There are kids everywhere, running and screaming and dripping ice-cream all over themselves. Their parents are wandering around aimlessly acting as though they haven't noticed. Sometimes I can't stand the seaside, it's like a breeding ground for unhappy families trying to make a go of things, all false smiles and fake laughter. Everything will be alright if we buy a few ice-creams and build a sandcastle.

Coming to stop, mainly because Tony has, I put down Fred (yes, I've named the panda) for a moment and lean against the railings. I suppose it's not all bad, there's nothing wrong with the pebble beach that stretches out beneath us.

'Right, come on, we're going down there,' he says as though he's reading my mind. He moves away from the rails again and tugs on my sleeve. Thank fuck, he's finally had an idea that doesn't involve eating pure sugar and spinning around like a Catherine wheel for several minutes.

Picking up Fred, I trudge after him once more and down onto the beach, my feet crunching in the pebbles. He takes a minute to hire a couple of deckchairs, demands I leave Fred in one of them, and then pulls me towards the water before I get chance to object.

He stops in his tracks, throws his shoes and socks aside, rolls up his jeans and runs straight into the sea. I'm frozen, staring at him as he jumps the waves, laughing all the while. He's been possessed, surely. This is not the guy I thought I knew. I would have been less surprised if he'd suggested going to the nudist beach.

'Don't just stand there you fucking tosser,' chides Tony suddenly, knocking me from my trance. That's better, now that's normal behaviour. 'Fucking come on!'

Better move I suppose. I shrug, toss my jacket and trainers aside and then walk down the beach to join him in the water. Considering the speed he'd gone at it I wasn't expecting it to be this cold actually. Next time we're going to the Caribbean.

Tony's staring out across the sea now, his right hand held up to shade his eyes from the afternoon sun. 'Fancy swimming over to France and grabbing some cheap vodka?' he questions absently.

'Was that a hint?' I ask him, glancing over and narrowing my eyes slightly. 'Because if you hadn't spent everything you had left on winning that fucking bear you'd have been able to buy your own drinks. You were rubbish at that by the way,' I add as I turn away.

'Thanks, Max,' Tony laughs, turning his gaze to me and smiling in disbelief. 'It's fun though; you can't say you're not having fun.'

Oh, I'm pretty sure I've had fun at some point while we've been in Brighton; I just know he wasn't present at the time. Shame really. There's a day left yet, he might surprise me, stranger things have happened after all. I'd like to look back and say that Tony was the reason these few days had turned out so great, but I'm not so sure he has it in him. When he becomes aware of enjoying my company he runs off and latches himself onto the nearest female. For this to work, he needs to stop being so fucking afraid of getting close to me.

When I decide to look at him again, he's stripping out of his shirt and moving to hold it in his hand so that he can bask in the sun. He stretches his arms out, tilting his face up to the golden sunshine and closes his eyes. Fuck, why does he have to be so goddamed perfect? It's like torture being this close to him and not being able to have him.

He stands motionless for ten minutes, tiny beads of sweat now glistening against his milky complexion. What I wouldn't give to lean over and kiss them away.

With a soft sigh, I retreat back to the deckchairs to join Fred, and I continue to watch Tony from afar. There is a small chance that tonight might turn out better than last night. Only slight, but it's still there. I won't be running off with a local tonight no matter what happens. Even if he doesn't want to, _I_ can try.

Eventually, Tony flops into the chair beside mine, riffling through his pockets until he comes across his lighter. Several minutes later he's puffing away on a joint, slouching down in his seat, with his arms folded behind his head and legs crossed in front of him.

'Nips really doesn't know what she's missing,' he observes, blowing a stream of smoke toward me.

I wondered how long it would take for him to mention Michelle again, but that's all he says. Tony sniffs and then leans around Fred to pass me the rollup, Fred's fur ending up singed in the process. I decide to remain silent for now. There's nothing to be said.

'Plans for tonight?' I ask eventually, even though I know he's going to leave it up to me to make the decision.

Tony shrugs his shoulders, clearly not having a care in the world right now. 'Whatever,' he answers, as helpful as ever. At least his noncommittal response gives me clearance to take him wherever I want. Tonight we'll be going somewhere at least halfway decent if I have anything to do with it.

And if Tony wants a good night out, I'll sure as hell give him one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

He'd refused to go inside at first; apparently it went against his morals. That alone makes me laugh, since when did Tony have morals? But now, after downing several shots of raspberry sambuca, he was on the dance floor and flirting with anyone who came into the vicinity. It helped that he was high as a kite of course. Thing is, I wanted him to be flirting with me and me alone, not every guy in the place who had a pulse.

I've been sat at the bar for the best twenty minutes, simply watching him. At least he's not looking to run off with the next unsuspecting blonde this evening. In fact, Tony looks as though he's set for the night.

I down one last shot, placing the glass in the small stack we'd made earlier and then hop up off my stool so that I can join him. As soon as I'm within a metre of him, he grabs hold of the front of my shirt, pulling me tight against him and slipping a hand up into my hair. He leans in, delectably close to my ear and whispers, 'Thank you.'

I'm about to ask him what for, but it suddenly becomes quite obvious when several girls start dancing with us as well. They may very well be more interested in each other than they are him, but if there are females involved it doesn't make Tony's behaviour quite as gay as it seems. It wouldn't surprise me if he tries to talk them into coming back to the hotel with us as well. And if that's the case, I don't want anything more to do with it.

My eyes narrow over at him, but I stay where I am because Tony's dancing right up against me and it's fucking fantastic. He's doing it for entertainment purposes, purely for show. I don't care though, because my heart's racing and my skin's tingling and the feel of him pressing up against me outweighs everything that's happened over the last few weeks. Right now, in this very moment, everything feels right.

His fingers are tangled in my hair again and he yanks my head to the side, his lips brushing my skin as he leans in closer. It hurts actually. Pain equals pleasure though and I can't get enough. He's breathing hard into my ear, his free hand sliding up my thigh as he continues to grind against me from behind. 'Mmm, down boy,' he murmurs, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He's drunk, I know that. This would never happen in public if he were sober.

Sighing softly, I lean back into him, quite happily sliding my arm around his neck. I could stay here all night like this actually.

'Do you mind if the girls join us later?'

Shit, I knew it, I fucking knew it.

Everything comes crashing down around me and I pull away from him, my arm falling away and I'm suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable. Turning on him sharply, I look him in the eye (resisting the urge to just kick him in the balls and have at it) and then mutter, 'Fuck you, Tony, fuck you.' Taking a step back from him, I rake my hands up into my hair, all the while fighting tears. Why does he keep doing this to me? Why can't he make up his mind?

I stare at him for a moment, and then after drawing in a shaky breath, march off toward the bar wanting nothing more than to get away from him.

'Maxxie?' His voice is almost drowned out by the music and that makes it easier to ignore him. 'What the _hell _is your problem?!' he shouts, and for once there is actually some form of desperation in his words. Good, it's about time he realised he'd done something wrong without me having to tell him.

Hoping he'd come after me was clearly expecting too much, so I'm left to down the shots until I knock myself unconscious. I'll do anything to get Tony out of my head right now. As I stare down at my fifth empty shot glass, I'm beginning to numb to the pain. The tequila's making me feel queasy, but it's doing its job. After every mouthful thoughts of him are being pushed further to the back of my mind.

Maybe I will end up going home with a local again.

Knocking back shot number seven, the room is spinning and someone's talking to me, laughing softly and touching my arm every so often. Do I know this person? I glance over through thin, hazy eyes and find myself face-to-face with Ryan from last night. Great, now I've got a stalker. He's cuter than I remember though, with jet black hair, big brown eyes and a dimple that appears on his left cheek whenever he smiles.

But I don't want him… I want Tony.

God, this is hell.

Ryan takes a seat beside me, smiling all the while and yammering away about something. I'm unsure what; I can't hear him very well over the Madonna record that's playing. He keeps lowering his eyes and touching my hand. It's kind of annoying really.

I'm waiting for him to ask if I want to join him at his apartment again, and if he does, I'm a mere second away from saying yes. He may not be Tony, but he's not bad in the sack.

'Can I get you a drink?' asks Ryan after finishing the contents of his glass. He's smiling at me, his eyes alight and his fingers stroking up and down my arm. Yeah, he clearly wants to fuck me again. Thank God for small miracles.

I find myself returning his smile and I open my mouth to reply, only to be cut off abruptly as someone steps in front of me and announces, 'No, you can't get him a drink.'

Momentarily looking upwards I find myself staring at the back of Tony's head. Where did he come from? Ryan seems just as confused as I am, as well as a little pissed off. Tony's a stranger to him though, a stranger who's stepping on his toes and worming his way in on the territory he thinks he's marked.

Ryan's eyebrows shoot up and he's quick to question, 'Excuse me?'

'You heard me. Now fuck off, Maxxie's with me tonight,' Tony says, reaching one of his arms back slightly so that he can lay his hand on my knee. A tiny surge of tingles course through my leg at the contact and I have to bite down on my lip to stop myself from whimpering.

Ryan hasn't moved, but Tony's not giving up yet. He turns on me, a genuine smile on his face (almost as though he's asking permission) and then leans down to claim my lips for his own. This is unlike anything I've experienced before and it's delicious. I sigh, reaching my hand up to his face and raking my nails against his cheek, returning the kiss.

Well, how could I not?

His mouth is warm and he tastes like raspberries and peppermint. I think he's forgotten about our audience and the purpose of his show, his hands are roaming and his actions seem hungrier as the seconds pass. I slowly slide down off my stool, giving myself some extra height and allowing myself to get closer to him. After everything that's happened I shouldn't be giving in to him so freely, but I can't help myself where Tony's concerned. All I really want is to take him back to the hotel and shag him senseless.

He pulls away and I involuntarily find myself moaning his name in disappointment, moving to close the gap between us again and clawing at his skin. I'm not letting him go so easy this time. To my surprise he doesn't protest and gladly engages in another kiss, his fingertips slowly walking down my chest.

It doesn't last too much longer and before I really realise what's going on, Tony's dragging me outside and pinning me against the wall. I give in, knotting my hands into his hair and biting down on his lower lip when he leans into me. We're hidden in the shadows of the neighbouring buildings here and out of sight from everyone. I'm not so sure that Tony cares; I don't think he'd mind where we were right now.

He's muttering something; I can't quite make out what, but his hands are moving feverishly towards my belt and he's trying to manoeuvre me further into the darkness. I may want him but when we have a perfectly good hotel room several streets away going to waste, this is fucking ridiculous. He's made quick work of my belt and he's fumbling with the buttons on my fly now. The kind of need that he has when we are together is what makes it so hard to say no to him. He's always so panicked and so rushed about it, almost as though I'm going to disappear any second.

Tilting my head as he begins to nibble his way down my throat, I fleetingly glance up to the sky, battling with the groan building in my throat. And shit, when did his hand find its way there? My gaze moves back to him suddenly, one of my hands now gripping onto his arm tightly, as I stop myself from collapsing against him.

'Fucking hell, Tone… when did you get so good at that?' The words leave my mouth before I get the chance to stop them and I can feel him grinning against my neck.

Christ, this needs to end. The thought of coming in Tony's hand in a darkened alleyway amongst the rubbish bins isn't exactly a turn on. And if I don't put a stop to this soon that's exactly what's going to happen. But, fuck, telling him to stop is way too much effort. I give up, dropping my head down onto his shoulder and slipping my free hand beneath his shirt to slowly trace my fingertips over his skin. He moans into my ear and I take that as a good sign.

Not that it matters, my attentions elsewhere now, mainly on what he's doing to me and how close I am.

Tony latches onto my ear with his teeth, yanking playfully, and then whispers, 'I think your friend might have wanted to join in.'

With that thought in mind, my body gives a small shudder and I come, breathing hard against his shoulder and my fingers digging into his flesh. Fuck, had I needed that.

He steps away from me and I place my hand against the wall behind me to steady myself, looking up at his face with what I hope is a mischievous smile. He's smiling back at me, thankfully, his thumbs hooked casually into the pockets of his jeans as he observes me.

Once I'm done straightening myself out, Tony reaches out so that he can pull me out of the alleyway and begins to walk back toward the hotel. Tossing the keys for our room from hand to hand, he glances over, his words confident as he says, 'It's my turn when we get back.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I'm not sure what time it is. I don't really care. It must be morning though because a small sliver of golden sunlight is escaping through the curtains and spilling out across the carpet. For half an hour I've been lying in silence and staring up at the ceiling. There's a dark stain over in the left-hand corner that looks very much like an elephant if you squint your eyes and tilt your head a little to the right. Beside me, Tony is asleep; he has been for several hours.

Sleeping has been the last thing on my mind. I'm so wired that even closing my eyes for five minutes is like hard work. But I don't mind, I'm quite happy to watch him. Last nights buzz is still at the forefront of my mind, adrenaline rippling through my veins, as rife as it had been the moment Tony kissed me.

Speaking of last night, every inch of my body aches and my neck looks as though it's been savaged by an extremely ravenous vampire. I'm not complaining of course, anything but.

Tony's stirring slightly; I can hear him moving the covers. I look over just in time to catch him scratch his nose and then sigh into the duvet. He's lying flat out on his front, one of his hands tucked beneath the pillow, a very apparent bite mark on his right shoulder. With a smile I roll over onto my front and then reach over to run my fingers through his hair. He grunts in protest, burying his face further into the bedcovers.

Edging closer and then propping myself up on my elbow, I press a light kiss to the bite mark, soothing the wound with my tongue.

'Fuck off, Max,' he murmurs a second later, his voice hostile.

I hesitate a moment, looking down at him, my fingers still tangled in his dark hair. Does he really mean that? Definitely not the first thing I wanted him to say this morning. I leave him for a minute or so, right up until he turns his head to gaze at me and removes my hand. 'I said fuck off,' he reinforces, eyes narrowing.

Right, fantastic, should have known.

Sighing, I move away from him and stare over at the wall instead. Fucking hell. Gripping the duvet cover tightly in my fist, my knuckles going white, I pull it up higher and bite down on the fabric to quell my upset. After last night how can he act that way? I'm pretty sure he couldn't have just been playing a game all that time. No one does that. Not even Tony. That's beyond fucked up.

I refrain from moving; the last thing I want is Tony going skitzo on me because he thinks I tried to touch him up or something.

A couple of hours must have passed before either of us make any conscious effort to get out of bed, and even then I'm reluctant to open my eyes. Tony's repacking his case; I can hear him banging about in the wardrobe. He's not bothering to be quiet about it. I'm made officially aware of his frosty temperament when he throws the case down onto the bed beside me, barely skimming the back of my head.

'For fucks sake, Tony!'

Enough now.

Sitting up and only just avoiding being smacked in the face by the lid of his case, I turn my gaze on him, gritting my teeth. 'If you want to pretend like last night didn't happen, then fucking say so,' I offer, somewhat venomously. 'Stop acting like such a wanker.'

He ignores me, straight out. I've never hated him as much as I do right now. But Tony's like a drug, I know how bad he is for me and I still can't get enough. I'm addicted to him. I suppose if he's ignoring me it's a tad better than him agreeing to forget about last night entirely. The hate subsides slightly with that in mind.

It takes me another twenty minutes to move from the warmth and safety of the covers, and even then I'm walking on eggshells around my companion.

By eleven thirty we're stood on the seafront, leaning against the wall and Tony's still not talking to me. Is the thought of what we did really so repulsive that he doesn't even have the decency to speak? He is however offering all of his attention to a small group of girls on the beach. They'd made their way down there ten minutes ago and were now in the process of laying down towels and rubbing suntan lotion on.

A moment later the tray of chips he'd been munching on is shoved into my hands and he's jogging down the beach towards the girls. It's quite obvious what he's doing. And sure enough, almost as soon as he reaches them he's handed a bottle of lotion and he's helping to rub it in. The girl who appears to be the ringleader of the group (blonde with extremely fake looking hair extensions) is beaming at him, stroking his cheek and giggling animatedly. Tony's lapping it up of course and all the while I feel like someone's just come along and stabbed me in the chest with a blunt knife.

Turning my back on him, perching on the edge of the wall, I toss his leftovers aside and stare down at my feet. I should never have agreed to come with him in the first place. It appears to be getting harder to read Tony's actions. He says one thing and then does the complete opposite. From his spot several feet away I can hear him laughing and joking with the girls. He's turned into the flirt he was early last night.

So I continue to ignore his actions, there's not much else I can do. I leave him with his new found friends and get myself a drink from a nearby bar, sitting outside with it. Slumping forwards, I stare down into the glass, watching the light reflect off the amber liquid. At least we'll be back in Bristol by this evening and I'll be rid of him. He can go and play his mind games with someone else then.

I'm not sure how long I've been sat there when Tony finally decides to come and join me. He collapses into the chair opposite me, slamming down his bottle of San Miguel and giving a dry laugh.

I glance up, perking an eyebrow at him and then, without really thinking about it, shoot, 'Are you done trying to make me jealous now?'

Tony laughs, again, taking a drink of his beer and shaking his head. 'Max,' he scoffs, finally breaking his silence. 'What the fuck?'

'Well, what else would you call that?'

And not only am I telling him I'm jealous, I'm sounding it too, my voice is tense and edgy. He's completely and utterly oblivious to what's going on. Honestly, when did Tony become so dense? He takes his time to reply, and when he does, there's an edge of mirth to his words. 'No offence Maxxie, but why the hell would I want to do that? You're a guy, I'm not gay.'

No, you're just a prick. I resist the urge to say it, instead shake my head and glance away from him, finishing off my drink. I'm not so sure I can go on like normal after what happened last night. Sure, I managed it after Russia for the most part, but this is different. This is… well, he can't say he didn't want it.

'Tone,' I whisper eventually, looking his way as I put my empty glass down. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of. No one's going to find out.'

'Fucks sake, Maxxie,' he mutters and his gaze drops down to the table. I've struck a chord there. He's beginning to fidget, slowly peeling the label off his beer bottle, tapping his nails against the table top and running his fingers in his hair. 'Just fucking don't, alright.' He sighs, shoving the bottle away and before he gets chance to retaliate, it topples off the edge of the table, shattering across the tarmac. Tony winces, clenching his fist and cursing under his breath.

I stare over at him for a while and then when it becomes obvious he's not going to offer me anything other than an insult right now, I shrug my shoulders, get up from the table and head off down the seafront, walking slowly. I'm getting bored of him now. I'm getting bored of the whole charade.

I've been walking for ten minutes when Tony finally catches up with me, seizing my sleeve and pulling me to stop. Seeing no point in being rude, I glance back at him, but I don't bother to smile. 'I'm sorry, OK?' he starts, slightly out of breath from running. 'I'm fucking sorry.'

Part of me wants to ignore his apology, but I know he's being honest for once. 'OK,' is my muted reply. I continue to gaze at him, and then fold my arms, waiting for him to continue.

Tony stares at me. Clearly he expected that to be it. 'Fuck, what is it with you people?' he mutters, turning away from me and leaning against the wall beside us. 'I said sorry, what more do you want?'

With a soft sigh, I reluctantly move to stand beside him, my eyes focused on a point on the horizon. 'An explanation?' I request. To be honest, that's probably asking too much of him. I'm not stupid; I know he doesn't feel anything for me, but there's definitely something going on with him that I'd like an answer to. He's gone quiet again, either thinking it over or deciding not to grace me with a reply. It's probably the latter.

'Know what, it doesn't matter,' I say eventually, giving him a way out of it and beginning to walk again. 'Just in future, have the decency not to treat me like shit afterwards. Even you're capable of that, Tony.'

I'm not surprised when he darts after me, sputtering his argument, 'In future? That's not going to happen again. I mean, fuck, that's not what I'm about.'

So he keeps telling me.

'Yeah, OK, whatever Tone,' I retort. 'But I haven't been the one doing all the chasing.'

He's given up coming after me; in fact, he's stood in the middle of promenade looking every inch the deer caught in headlights. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. For a brief moment, I close my eyes, knotting my fingers through my hair as I bring them to rest at the back of my head and smile. He can deny it all he wants, but we both know I'm right.

The coach journey back to Bristol is a tedious one. Tony spends the first four hours listening to his iPod and hiding behind a pair of shades, trying his hardest to pretend I don't exist. Well, that's fine; I can find someone else to talk to pretty easy. And I do, a girl called Faye who belongs to band whose name I can't pronounce, who I spend three hours talking music with.

Tony finally decides to acknowledge my presence half an hour or so before we get home. Probably to clarify that I'm not going to tell anyone about what happened between us. The last thing we want is for Tony to look gayer than he already does after all. Of course, I take full credit for that. He's resting his chin on my shoulder, looking at me through a curtain of dark hair with those big baby blue eyes of his. _So_ fucking tempting.

I wait patiently for him to speak, but he doesn't, he sits perfectly still, staring up at me. Shit, that's annoying.

By the time we arrive back in Bristol, he's dropped to sleep on my shoulder, with his hand laid lightly against my thigh. It's all so incredibly fucked up. I'm stuck, I can't move without upsetting him. But we need to get off the coach. I give him a very gentle dig in the ribs with my elbow and the only reaction I get is when he nuzzles his head further into my hoody. Great, this is exactly what I need right now.

Faye has just slipped past our seats with her holdall, laughing softly and wishing me luck. I need more than luck, I need a fucking foghorn.

'Tone,' I say quietly, trying again. 'Tony!'

The coach is quickly empting and he still hasn't moved. With a sigh, I roll my eyes up to the roof and then pick up my book, rising from my seat without warning. Tony's body falls forwards and the moment his face meets the arm rest, he wakes with a jolt, looking dazed and confused.

'Come on, we gotta go,' I tell him, reaching up to the luggage rack to grab our bags and then throwing his at him. He catches it, only just, gazing over at me with wide eyes. I choose to ignore him and make my way down the coach, hopping down the steps and copping my first look at the familiar sight of Bristol bus station. Home sweet home.

But as I reach the bottom step, I'm pulled back and Tony wheels me around to face him, pressing his lips hard into mine. Thankfully the driver has long since left the cab and we're pretty much alone - aside from a mother and her two kids attempting to gather their things on the back seat anyway. I sigh against his lips, telling myself to step away from him, but it's too tempting. He leans into me, losing his hands in my hair and kisses me with everything he has. Not to return it would be a waste. So I do, with enthusiasm, gripping onto his jacket and groaning into his mouth.

When we finally pull away, we're both a little breathless and Tony is stroking my cheek softly with the back of his hand, a small smile on his face.

'Don't fucking tell anyone, Maxxie,' he concludes a moment later and then, without another word, he pushes past me and straight back to reality. As if I really would.

Watching him walk off, I tilt my head slightly and smile. He may only want me where no one can see, but at least he does. I shrug to myself and then follow after him.

Works for me.


End file.
